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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600425">Killer + The Sound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spocksbrowneyes/pseuds/spocksbrowneyes'>spocksbrowneyes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Not Starfleet, Assassin Spock, BAMF Gaila (Star Trek: Alternate Original Series), Everyone Has Issues, Hurt Spock (Star Trek), James T. Kirk Has Issues, Leonard "Bones" McCoy is So Done, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Spock Has Issues (Star Trek), Tags May Change, Thief Jim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:40:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spocksbrowneyes/pseuds/spocksbrowneyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim could barely see into the cold, unfeeling eyes of the man standing in front of him, the shadow from his hood obscuring them. Their noses mere inches apart, the other man’s covered by a black mask. He knew how reckless he was being right now. He was sure, positive this had been the man who managed to take someone out while they were standing in the middle of a crowd, retrieve their body, and make it out unseen, while at the same time, he had no clue. The ‘unseen’ part the manifestation of his doubt. He had a gut feeling though, and his gut usually wasn’t wrong.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gaila &amp; Spock, James T. Kirk &amp; Leonard "Bones" McCoy &amp; Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, Montgomery "Scotty" Scott/Nyota Uhura</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sometimes I Think I'm a Killer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Alright, so this is an AU based on the song, Killer + The Sound by Pheobe Bridgers, Noah Gundersen, &amp; Abby Gundersen. I've been thinking about it for a while, and finally did it. I have no idea how long this will go on for, nor my update schedule. So, thank's for reading this dumpster fire, and enjoy. If you have any comments or thing's you'd like to see, go nuts, I'll take it into consideration.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The ambiance of the bar made a buzz in the air. Jim looked down at his glass, filled halfway with a rich brown liquor. He brought it to his lips and drank it down. It burned his throat, the sensation familiar, this was how he ended most nights. It’d been 25 years since the fall of the Federation. All ties, all treaties, declarations of peace, they fell to oblivion. Ripped up and burned by the growing schism that plagued those who survived the downfall. Jim had been 5 at the time. Too young to understand but old enough to know the people who went missing, they wouldn’t be coming back. Sam, wouldn’t return. Neither would any of his friends. Even when they took Frank, the man Jim hated the most, part of him felt empty. It was another person off the list.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was 15, Jim ran. He ran before they could catch him. Before the darkly dressed figures wearing the badge of an operation mandated to explore and discover could catch him. He was 20 when he met Leonard McCoy. A doctor coming from what was left of Georgia, running from his ex-wife who tried to kill him, only to meet that very fate herself. He had a kind of shield around him in a way. Injuries and illnesses were common, but real medical care wasn’t. People would take it where they could get it, rarely assaulting those who offered a chance at living another day. If they did turn, those who saw it would protect the precious, life-saving, person, as they really were like a god to them. Jim wasn’t among the people who were protected by the little consciousness people had left. He was a criminal. Running from what was left of law enforcement, the only people standing between them and all-out anarchy. Those who valued their livelihoods would obey before things got ugly for the most part. But honest work was hard to come by, and as long as you didn’t get caught, you would proceed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim personally had gotten caught, released because there were no holding cells in the police station let alone jail, and gotten right back to it. Sure, he’d been guilt-tripped by the only officer in the area, Officer Pike, but within a week, he was at it again. Things were pretty loose, there wasn’t much you could get in trouble for. Jim himself had gotten in a decent amount of bar fights, a pretty good hammering happened the last week with a guy name Hendroff, but never street fights, which were much worse. Jim put down what he owed the bartender on the counter, and left. He wasn’t in the mood to stay there, it was getting late, and McCoy had been really getting on him about hooking up with people in their shared place, so he decided to give him a least some respite. He stepped out onto the street, lit with artificial light from buildings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sudden screaming cut through everything else, people scattered, running form something happening about 10 feet away. Jim saw through the rush someone drop to the ground, then the very next moment, they were gone. A puddle of blood the only thing left. Jim saw the silhouette of somebody ducking into an alley, but they were gone at the snap of a finger. Jim ran and ducked into the alleyway himself. It was dark and he didn’t see anyone, didn’t hear anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit,” Jim cursed under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked away, out of the space. He went down the street, turning at the next, and kept going until the hangar where he and his crew lived in their ship, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It wasn’t anything fancy, but he cherished it. It’d been his father’s, who died in the line of action when the Federation was still good. He saved Jim and his mother at the cost of his own life. Jim wasn’t an upstanding citizen, really the opposite, but people who killed for the thrill, he couldn’t stand them. It was wrong. He assumed that was why he had a tendency to chase people he’d never find. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Scared You in Your House</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, the first few chapters are really just going to be introducing characters. Thanks for reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was dark, there was wind gusting through the city and rain coming down. Spock’s footfall as he bounded and ran from roof to roof was silent, his ebony clothes concealing him in the shadows of the night. He lept off the edge of a building, his hands catching a small overhang on the next and he seamlessly slipped into the apartment through the window. It was nothing special in there, a small room with two beds on either side, a kitchenette, a small bathroom through the door on the right, and the belongings of its inhabitants. Spock’s few possessions and the rest the property of his roommate to be exact. He pulled the black mask he wore to cover his mouth and nose off, flipping his hood off his head. It was a day like any other. He carried out whatever he had to in fog-shrouded daytime, coming home at night if he was done, and staying on the streets if he wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nights like these that reminded Spock of the night he lost everything, only to find his purpose. His mother was killed, she was considered unfit to survive by the Vulcan council. Spock was only 14 at the time, nearly 11 years ago. He was supposed to be next, but he ran. He followed his mother’s last request and ran like hell. Until he positively couldn’t. Until his lungs burned to a paralyzing intensity. Until his leg collapsed beneath him, unable to hold his malnourished and battered body up anymore. Until the world went black from his sheer exhaustion. Until there was nothing left in him. He’d opened his eyes again to find himself lying behind bars in a stone room. A jail cell he deduced. Two men were knocking against the bars, both wearing hooded ruby cloaks. They lead Spock to their leader, who sat upon a throne of sorts, and wore similar attire, only his robe had a golden design stitched into it. They weren’t the Vulcan council, nor their security. It was someone else entirely. But he would not survive them either, he realized as the leader was handed a knife, stained with the blood of its previous victims.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to kill him, end Spock and his freakish half-blooded existence, but he stopped. The group that gathered around them seemed to be surprised, shocked even. As he would later learn, he was the only one who had ever been spared, and as time would prove, ever would be. There had been a look in Spock’s eyes. One without fear, one without sorrow. He wasn’t scared of the man who held the fate of his life in a crimson-stained blade, not his supporters who were willing to watch the execution of an innocent boy. Rather it was one of bravery and strength. The kind his mother wanted him to have. The kind she had. His fate was changed, and he instead was given an x shaped cut to the palm of his left hand, a blood oath, one that promised his life to this fellowship. They called themselves The Raven, a camaraderie of assassins. They trained him to fight, to employ his intelligence before his blade or gun to get himself out of a rough, but also to show no hesitation when using them. He would be loyal to those who earned his trust until the grave but show no mercy to those who betrayed him or his confidants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His training to suppress his emotion was the desire of many in the group, his lithe frame, and silent step making him an exemplary addition. Never before had they taken in someone that was not of Raven bloodline. All others were Human or Bajoran, coming from certain families. They hadn’t cared that he bled green, not of his hybrid heritage. It was the first time he’d ever felt truly accepted. His telepathic abilities were the only ones in the group. While he rarely used them, if he chose to, nothing in the enemy’s mind was safe. He was also one of the few who still harbored a great consciousness. Always suffering incredible guilt after a successful mission, but keeping it to himself. It was 7 years ago when he was at 18 years of age that the Raven compound was raided by Federation officials, slaughtering them. Once again, Spock was told to run, he obeyed. He promised himself it was the last time he’d be compliant to such a request. It never ended well for him. There was a pit in his stomach whenever he thought about it. The pain of the loss far greater than the biting pain any stab wound or bullet could deliver. He had met an Orion woman by the name of Gaila about a year after. She was making her living off of being a prostitute. He’d been sent to kill the person she’d been visiting at the time. When she had entered the main hall to leave, she’d seen a man, dressed in all black flee with his target. She had followed him, and after swearing herself to the secrecy of his identity, slowly, painstakingly so, he began to trust her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of her, Spock heard the sound of her footsteps approaching. He had memorized the sound, the timing, everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m back,” she announced as she entered the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust your commute occurred without incident?” Spock asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Gaila sighed. It was the same way he greeted her every day, every time. The same question, the same apathetic tone. However, in his defense, he was worse off if she didn’t get a greeting. That usually ended in Galia coming in to find their bathroom looking like a murder scene as he’s sitting on the floor, shirt hanging off the edge of the counter, cauterizing his own stab wounds, or digging a bullet out of his side. She’d definitely gotten a stronger stomach since meeting him. He was really her only friend and vice versa. Neither of them had jobs that were very honorable, and they’d both suffered a lot in their lives. Gaila knew that befriending an assassin was a dangerous business, but he would never betray her, and if someone were to go after her, he would stand in their way even if it cost him his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled her shirt off over her head. Probably the biggest perk of living with Spock was that he really didn’t care what she wore, or more so didn’t wear. He was one of the only people she knew that she had a completely platonic relationship with. It was nice that she could go home and not have someone lusting after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She traded out her uncomfortably tight skirt for a pair of sweatpants, “How was your day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock was quiet for a moment, “It was fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaila nodded. Spock hated what he did. Though he never voiced it and didn’t think it really mattered, deep down, there was a constant ache in him, guilt for what he did to survive. She believed the only reason he still did it, why he hadn’t let himself be free of life, was that he felt a kind of debt to The Raven. The people who pulled him up from his darkest time. Spock was brilliant, but there was no place for just brains in this society. While that intelligence would up your chances of surviving by a great amount, it alone would do you no good. Assassinations paid decently and required a mind of great intellect. She knew that Spock would leave Earth in a heartbeat if the opportunity presented itself. There were many nights that Gaila would wake up in the dead of night to see Spock awake, looking out at the stars. He would much rather be among them.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Even Scared Myself by Talking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jim shut the door behind him to the clatter of metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi! Laddie, get offa that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim sighed, that was his engineer and his assistant, Scotty, and Keenser. The Scotsman was fabulous at what he did, a nice guy with some spunk. He came to him working on the starboard side wing of their ship. He could see his pilot, Sulu, sitting in the cockpit, powering up the ship. It hadn’t flown in a while, they were repairing it right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Jim called to him, “What’cha doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s trying to fix the engine, again,” came McCoy’s irritated reply. McCoy hated the idea of going to space but hated Earth more. That and the fact that he was Jim’s best friend was the only reason why he was still running with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard scrutinized him, “You better not have hurt yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim rolled his eyes, “I’m fine Bones, just thinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s never a good sign.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very funny,” Jim scoffed, “You happen to see any reports on like a murder or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>McCoy was immediately suspicious, “No… what are you getting yourself into now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sulu came up to them, “What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you heard anything about a murder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sulu shrugged, “You’re going to need to be more specific. You know how common that stuff is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim recalled the figure he saw, “Dark hooded figure, attacked in a crowd, took their target and escaped without a trace. Not far from the bar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god,” Leonard groaned, “You’re not a damn detective Jim, you’re never going to find someone like that, you barely saw anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bones, they attacked in the middle of a crowd, someone had to have seen them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>McCoy wasn’t having it, “Scotty, when will that thing be flying? We need to get Jim off this planet before he gets himself killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only response he got was a laugh, “Good luck with that doctor!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is pretty vague,” Sulu commented, “And if they opened fire in the middle of a crowd people probably weren’t studying them. These things happen, you can’t stay hung up on all of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knoooow,” Jim groaned, “But there was something different about them. Nobody does what they did. They knew exactly what they were doing. Exactly. They weren’t some random person off the street.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sulu said nothing, thinking. Whenever Jim got into something like this, he very easily got Hikaru into it too. They both had a strong craving for adventure, though Sulu tended to be a bit more sensible in not doing something completely insane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think way an inside job or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim shrugged, “How would I know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess that’s valid. But you’re right about something seeming a bit fishy,” Sulu replied, “Maybe they were paid to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And maybe, we should drop it before you screw yourselves over!” Leonard butted in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a loud crash and a string of swearing draped in Scotty’s thick Scottish accent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You good there?” Jim called up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need tae get better parts! This thing is breakin’ before it works!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a unanimous non-verbal agreement between the group. They didn’t exactly get very good things to replace what was broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll get to that eventually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, when we’re dead,” Leonard grumbled under his breath.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright, so this is the last chapter that really focuses on character introductions, so yeah. Also, sorry about it being so short, this isn't my best writing either. So, I'm sorry it's kind of crappy.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. About Dahmer on Your Couch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jim hadn’t been able to take his mind off what he saw. It was unsettling, sure. But Jim had seen stuff like that dozens of times. He stared up at the ceiling, he and his crew all slept aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enterprise</span>
  </em>
  <span>, there were 4 too many bunks for the number of people, but Jim wasn’t against it, they could get a larger crew if they needed and have a place for them to live. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep, he needed to figure out whatever this was. It was so strange. Jim wasn’t of a social stature that he had the money to hire a hitman or something, but some people were and they tended to have a lot of enemies. It was eating him alive, he couldn’t take it. Jim kicked off his blankets and climbed down the ladder. He tiptoed out of the sleeping quarters and grabbed a jacket, followed by sliding his shoes on. He crept out of the ship and the hangar as quietly as possible. It was dark, somewhere around 01:00. He walked down the street, head up and chest out, standing tall. Walking with pride other than being something he just did, it was safer, people didn’t tend to mess with people who did that, it was intimidating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim looked out on the street, it was quiet and there weren’t many people around. It was dangerous to be out at night. Then he saw Hendroff, he was standing night next to an alleyway, talking to somebody on a communicator. He didn’t think that it couldn’t he been Hendroff, the guy had been too fast, too small. Moments later Jim proved himself right. Hendroff dropped to the ground, and a living shadow grabbed him but saw Jim. They bolted and Jim took off after them. They ducked into the alley with incredible speed, Jim didn’t even hear their footfall. It was dark and Jim couldn’t see anything. There was the sound of a door shutting and Jim followed it. He was taken into a room, dimly lit. There was a bit of blood on the ground. There was a door to the right and a window to the left. Jim went for the left, he was no street runner, and he was lucky that there was a platform there. He looked down to see a figure run and he went for them. He ran after them, it wasn’t easy as his target was sprinting, and they’d gone a considerably long way like that. They had some insane endurance, Jim could give them that. Jim took a sharp turn and came to a sudden halt. He was now cornered with the darkly dressed person, looked like a man. Just perfect. Jim took initiative and charged, throwing a fist forward, which the man stopped effortlessly with his palm. Jim couldn’t help but stop for a moment. He had a pretty good punch, this guy hadn’t even flinched. He looked at his hand though. He had gauntlets on so Jim couldn’t see all of it, but it looked like there were to scars on his hand, reaching just by the top of his palm. Jim couldn’t help but feel almost a bit dizzy at the sight. It looked like… a scar, particularly the one that was given to all members of The Raven camaraderie. But that wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. They were all dead, and even then, the ritual scarring, the very existence of the fellowship was a theory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim could barely see into the cold, unfeeling eyes of the man standing in front of him, the shadow from his hood obscuring them. Their noses mere inches apart, the other man’s covered by a black mask. He knew how reckless he was being right now. He was sure, positive this had been the man who managed to take someone out while they were standing in the middle of a crowd, retrieve their body, and make it out unseen, while at the same time, he had no clue. The ‘unseen’ part the manifestation of his doubt. He had a gut feeling though, and his gut usually wasn’t wrong. Even then, his current actions were bold. Should this man chose he’d had enough of him, he could easily end him here an now without a trace. Jim considered himself to be a good fighter, but assassins with the mark of The Raven, they were legend. After the downfall of the group, again, whose existence hadn’t even been confirmed, stories began to spread of their greatness, their power. To think that one of them remained, it was a strange feeling, one Jim couldn’t identify. But he was sure the man before was that one. He had the components. All his clothes were the color of shadows, and he could see the black metal of a ballistic style gun on his right hip. He was sure of it, the blood from </span>
  <span>The Raven taught to use only ballistics style weapons to remain unexpected. Everyone else uses phasers, so everyone with the intention to stay alive has protection against them. But nobody expects to be taking a bullet, so they don't even consider it. While yes, they could survive the attack should you miss, but if you're using that kind of weapon, you're trained not to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim’s fascination cost him when his wrist was grabbed and he was flipped onto his back, hitting the concrete hard. He shot back up and threw punches, which were dodged and blocked. He took a kick to the stomach that knocked the wind out of him, and in his moment of weakness, he took yet another hit, but this time to his face. The man put about 4 feet of space between them so Jim couldn’t retaliate as quickly. Jim got up and ran at him. He just barely stopped in time when his opponent pulled a throwing knife out of nowhere. The blade just inches from his face. There was a sort of energy to him like Jim could feel his life force. He’d never felt that way before. It wasn’t like the cordial feeling you get around someone you love, but the kind that makes you hot and ready to run, but paralyzes you, useless energy rushing through your veins. Jim made a risky move and kicked his feet out from under him. The other man fell but was quickly, and fluidly back on his feet, clearly a highly-skilled fighter on many fronts. Jim wasn’t bad, and he knew how to fight, especially when it came to choosing moves on the fly, but he certainly didn’t anticipate the kick he received across the face. Vision blurring, he could already feel blood trickling from his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dove for the man’s wrist and gripped it in his hand, with all his strength, he forced it down. It did nothing. What was meant to flip his opponent had moved his arm all of an inch. His adversary now had the upper hand, and used it, punching Jim in the face and kicking him in the gut again. Jim retorted with his own attack, which hit but did very little. Jim had never met someone so good, but he was James Tiberius fucking Kirk, he didn’t lose to random people off the street. He kept it in his mind, as they went at each other, Jim’s attacks growing more erratic and unpredictable with his rival’s counteracting them with ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. But I Can't Sleep Next to a Body</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey! Break it up!” a voice came over the fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man in the hood stopped attacking, and Jim took the opportunity to punch him across the face. A move that proved to be a mistake when he revealed two blades that were previously hidden out of sight in his gauntlets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was about to charge when someone ran in between the two, “I said, break it up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim’s blood ran cold, looking at the figure between them, assuming the darkly dressed man recognized him too taken by how he seemed to cower a bit at the sight. This wasn’t good. Not because The man standing between them would hurt him, but because it meant punishment that actually worked on Jim. It was Pike. One of the few people left in law enforcement in San Francisco, and something along the lines of Jim’s mentor. The only person who could really guilt trip, Jim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike glared coldly at Jim, “James, you’re coming with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked to the other man, “Spock, so are you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Spock? What kind of a name is that? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jim thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned back to Jim, “So you get in fights now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim opened his mouth to reply when he saw Spock bolt, “I suggest you turn around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike took a firm grim on Jim’s wrist so he could get away, and saw the place where he used to stand, abandoned, and any proof of his path, non-existent. Pike cursed under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting escorted through the halls of the local police station was familiar to Jim. It’d happened before, and would probably happen again. He knew what was going to go down. He looked to the right that he always did, walk 5 feet, 3rd door on the left, Pike’s office. The only difference was that now he had Spock on his mind. Whoever he was supposed to be. Jim didn’t really care about that though. Whoever he was, he’d nearly ended up killing him, and he certainly had done so to others in the past. At least all he’d ever done was steal things. Pike looked up from his paperwork and shook his head, “I thought I was getting somewhere with you Jim. I really did. And you had to prove me wrong, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim rolled his eyes, “It’s not my fault he killed someone. I was trying to catch him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike seemed  a bit surprised, “He did what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He killed someone. I think it was Hendroff, the guy who I fought with in the bar that one time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike didn’t appear so interested in Jim anymore, “When did that happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim shrugged, “Maybe 2 hours ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has it happened before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that I’ve seen up close but without a doubt yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike put a hand over his mouth, thinking, “And you’re sure it was him? You have proof?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim shook his head, “Well, no. But I’m sure it was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike was quiet. He knew Spock, but not as whoever he’d become. He had been close friends with Amanda before she was killed and knew that her son had gotten away. He’d seen him on the streets before and after overhearing a  conversation, recognized the voice that only the half Vulcan had. He’d been watching him but he’d never heard anything about him being such a threat. Pike had tried to get close, but he always seemed to disappear at the last second. But he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s part of The Raven,” Jim said suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Pike’s interest was peaked, “As in the fellowship of assassins? That Raven?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim nodded, “Yeah. He has all the cards. He uses a ballistic weapon, gauntlets with hidden knives, and while I haven’t seen his whole hand, there are the tips of what look like two scars on his left palm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike sat down, “Jim, The Raven camaraderie was a bloodline. It was made up of Humans and Bajorians. Spock is half Vulcan, and not from Earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim was confused, “So you’re saying I’m wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike furrowed his brow, “No. I’m saying that you might be right, but we’re missing a lot of points here. If he really is who you say he is, we’ll only find out what we need to know by catching him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim smirked, “Did you say we? As in, you want my help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike rolled his eyes, “You’re the only one crazy enough to go after him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re letting me go???”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike sighed, “I always let you go because I don’t have any holding cells to keep you here. But you have to listen to me if we want to catch this guy. There’s a reason why I’ve never been able to get close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim fiddled with the stylus in his hand, “So how do you know Spock? He another one of your repeat offenders?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike scoffed, “Most people don’t come back to me Jim. And no, I didn’t know what Spock got himself into.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you do know him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike sighed, if he was really going to get Kirk to help, he might as well tell him, “Yeah, but I think did is a more accurate term. He was a real good kid, kind, gentle. Shy but brilliant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why don’t you think you know him anymore?” Jim inquired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lost him years ago,” Pike huffed, “I’ve been looking for him, but he’s gotten away whenever I’ve gotten close. I never considered what he may have gotten himself into. Guess I should’ve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if you care so much about him, why do you want me to help catch him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I get the feeling he’s not going down without a fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim flipped the pen in his hand around a bit, “Alright, but if my crew and I help you, what’s in it for us? Cause I’d say going after an assassin is a pretty tall order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike facepalmed, “Goddammit, Jim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jim put his hands up in mock surrender, “I’m the only one who did something that’s technically against the rules, but they’re all innocent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technically, I can arrest them for affiliating with you as closely as they do,” Pike pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t do that and you know it.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Fine, fine,” Pike rolled his eyes, “But this isn’t the only thing you’re doing for me. Got it?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Depends on what you plan on giving us after we run your errands,” Jim remarked.</span></p><p>
  <span>“I can get you off this rock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim was a bit surprised, “You serious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t a bit of trickery in Pike’s eyes, “You have a ship, it just doesn’t work. I can help you get it airborne and out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re pretty desperate to find this guy, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Even Harmless In Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“We’re doing what!?” Leonard exclaimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim waved off his concern, “We’ll be fine Bones. You don’t have to get up close and personal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not my point!” McCoy growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye! What’s happin’ with you two?” Scotty called from across the hangar, walking up to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sulu was following behind, “Yeah, it normally takes a little longer for you guys to start fighting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>McCoy looked to Jim, he was going to have to explain this one on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pike is offering us a chance at redemption. Bones doesn’t think we should take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard cut in, “No, that’s not it. It’s because you’re whole ‘redemption’ project is a suicide mission!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wait, wait, what are you talking about?” Sulu asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim smiled, “Pike said he’ll help us off this godforsaken planet if we help him with a few things. This is his first task for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scotty was a bit suspicious, “What kinda task are ya talkin’ about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard glared at Jim, who looked a bit sheepish, “He wants us to catch a fugitive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is a…” McCoy prompted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim laughed nervously, “Who’s an assassin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scotty and Sulu said in unison, “Hell no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I already told him we’d do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard, Sulu, and Scotty all stopped dead, then, all blew up at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you out of your fucking mind!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is crazy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya bastard, ya agreed!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHAT THE FUCK!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I die, ya payin’ for ma funeral,” Scotty’s voice came through the communicator. Jim didn’t sway his crewmates so much as he explained how he absolutely couldn’t back out. So, in the end, they made a deal that if any of them died or got hurt, Jim was paying for everything out of his own pocket. Also, if they survived, he had to pay them each 150 credits. Jim was really the only person in the group who stole stuff, but everyone else had targets on their backs for affiliating with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anyway, they were here now. Strategically posted so it’d be harder for Spock to get away. They outnumbered him, but he was fast, and his shot or slash, fatal. Their goal was to corner him, stun him, and get him back to the hangar before he woke up. They’d needed extra help so Scotty had called upon a woman by the name of Uhura to come help. They were friends from what Jim could grasp, and he’d met her before. She didn’t like him very much but also had a grudge against Spock. It seemed most people did. They’d formed pairs, agreeing to try and stay no more than 6 feet away from so they didn’t lose each other in the alley or risk being alone with their target. They had Scotty with Uhura, Sulu with Jim, and finally Pike with McCoy at the rendezvous point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uhura’s voice came over the line, “I’ve got eyes on him. 20 feet away from us, moving west.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim gave Sulu a thumbs up, which the pilot returned, Spock was headed towards them and they had to be ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s on the ground,” Pike’s voice came through, “He’s going through the alleys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was shared radio silence, what was he doing? He wasn’t keeping a straight path, running like he was trying to lose someone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yelling and commotion from Uhura and Scotty came over the line, “We’ve been spotted! He found us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the hell did he know we were here!?” Leonard hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s inbound to ya Doctor!” Scotty’s voice came over the line, “Watch yourselves wit’ him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike looked to McCoy, “You wouldn’t happen to have any sedatives would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard shook his head, “Do know how close you’d have to get for it to go in!? It wouldn’t matter either way!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have some?” Pike pressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but getting that close isn’t going to work. Jim and Sulu have the stronger phasers, we need to drive him that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s changing direction!” Uhura shouted, “He’s on the roof and headed away from us. He’s moving south.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each pair looked to their respective partner. There was a decided consensus between them all. They all started running, coming together to form a small mad dash of people. Everyone watching their surroundings. Pike was right, there was a reason why nobody had ever caught Spock. He was fast and stealthy. Silent and lethal. He could be standing right in front of them, hiding in the shadows. A feeling of paranoia and anxiety crept up in everyone. He could be anywhere, and where they were now stopped, they were the ones who were cornered instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Jim shouted into the dark, “We know you’re there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing, just the sounds of the night, all of which were freakishly quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think he’s even here?” Leonard whispered, “Why would he willingly let himself be outnumbered?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uhura jabbed him with her elbow to shut him up. McCoy had a point, but if Spock knew they were scared, which truth be told he probably did without anyone saying so, he could take that fear and pull them by the reigns of it. Jim pulled out a phaser and shot it into the dark. There was the reverberation of it hitting metal, but not a person. A shuffle caught the group’s attention, the adrenaline coursing through the whole group only intensifying. A silhouette came into view, a darkly dressed, hooded figure, crouching like they were hiding. Jim hoped it was the right person, mentally drafting an apology if it wasn’t and took the shot. It seemed to startle everyone else and the figure hit the ground. They stood in place for all of a moment before edging towards the person. Jim knelt down and shook them, they were out cold. Jim pushed the hood off and pulled the mask on his face down. Pike had moved to stand next to him, and Jim looked up. Pike nodded this was their guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim wasn’t really expecting this, truth be told, he didn’t know what he was. Spock was indeed a Vulcan, a light green tinge to his cheek and the characteristic pricked ears. While Vulcan and its teachings had changed dramatically, he never thought he’d see one who worked as an assassin. He had medium length hair, tied back in a short, messy ponytail, some of his ebony black hair still loose in the front. It’d just graze his shoulders if the band was taken out. His eyebrows were upswept as well. Though Jim could see that he wasn't a full Vulcan, some of his features were not quite as sharp and rigid. All his clothes were dark black, perfect for slipping by unseen. Other than the characteristic hood, he had a cloak-like top on, the collar coming to v right in the middle of his collar bone, under that was another shirt, probably meant for more protection. On his forearms were the gauntlets Jim almost got up close and personal with. At the waist, the cloak split into two coattails that went down to his claves, Jim assumed one to hide the knife that was strapped above his right knee and the other the gun holstered at his side. He had well broken-in boots on, not the sturdiest, but for what he was doing, he didn’t want that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was clear he knew what he was doing. He was dressed perfectly for the job, and managing to escape Pike for years was a feat itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how do we plan on getting him back?” Uhura asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good question,” Leonard remarked, spite in his voice, “How do we plan on getting him back Jim? It was you who drug us into this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike stayed silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim was already slinging Spock across his shoulders, noticing just how light he was, even by Human standards, “I’m glad you asked Bones, maybe you could use your eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sulu rolled his eyes, “You still have to pay us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a ringing in Spock’s ears. It was dark, cold. He opened his eyes a bit. Where was he? It looked like an abandoned hangar. There was a burning pain in his side, and it came back to him. He’d been going home after an assignment. It had been a success but he was attacked by the group of people who went chasing him through the alleyways. While running from them, they’d ducked into an alleyway and Spock went the other way, only for the security of his last target to come out of nowhere and stab him in the stomach. He dealt with the assailant quickly, but immediately began feeling drowsy, there was most likely a kind of non-lethal poison on the blade, which was acting as a sedative. He didn’t remember much after that. As of receiving it approximately at 22:57, without the potential infection, he would be rendered unconscious within 6 hours and dead in 7. He moved a bit only to be met with resistance and a small shock. His vision faded into focus, and he looked down, his arms were cuffed, chains clipped to a wall. He touched his throat to find a collar of some sort, most likely what was administering the shock that occurred when he moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” a prideful voice spoke. He looked up. It was the blonde from that night. The one that had been chasing him with the rest of his crew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim Kirk. Remember me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would be difficult to forget, “Spock said flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim was intrigued. Spock had put up quite a fight, and he had a mysterious aura to him. Jim hadn’t expected to find what he did when he saw what was under the mask and hood. He was so young and so pristine. Beautiful, gorgeous even. Jim brushed it off though, he’d seen plenty of good looking people where he least expected it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A door clicked, and Jim looked behind him, “He just woke up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man with grey hair and donning a police uniform came into view. It was Pike. The man Spock had been trying to get away from for years now, the one man who knew him from his past life, the one man who could remind him of all he left behind. Who could make his already difficult job even harder? Pike looked to Jim who nodded and left the room. Pike walked over to him and pulled up a chair. Spock’s expression was unwavering, but Pike looked disappointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been a while hasn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock didn’t say anything. The less he disclosed the better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike sighed, “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here. Especially not like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock remained silent. He would receive nothing if he spoke. The chances of him being freed on their terms were at 2.37%, in other words, if he wanted to get out in a timely manner, he was on his own. As usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike didn’t look impressed, “Do you plan on saying anything? Explaining yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Spock didn’t plan on saying anything nor quote on quote, explaining himself. He was doing what he had been trained to do, what the only people willing to care for him after one of the worst tragedies of his life taught him to do. To uphold the honor as the last of a dying breed. He had no respect for Pike anymore. He knew what happened to Amanda. He knew Spock had run like he was told to. Spock didn’t directly blame him for what he’d gotten himself into, but part of him loathed the man. He said that he’d always keep Amanda safe after Sarek abandoned them. He said he’d keep Sybok and Michael safe. That he’d keep Saavik and Spock safe. He hadn’t. And they were dead. Spock understood now that it was an empty promise, more of a lie than anything. But it still stung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spock, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up, approaching him. It was unnerving to Spock, being restrained with someone towering over him, but he thrived in fear. Fear kept him alive, he channeled it into the energy that had kept him alive in the brutal field he lived in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knelt down in front of him, “I’m going to need you to cooperate. Left hand, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock didn’t move, his cold and apathetic expression unchanging. He did as he was told by The Raven, do not give your captor the satisfaction of your compliance. They will only push you further and further until you give them what they want. It will often result in pain, and in that, you will hold your tongue. In the face of death, you will do the same. You will protect your comrades by any means necessary. Without any of The Raven left, Gaila would be who he protected. She had a surprising amount of people who had a grudge against her, and Spock would protect her from them. He would protect the secret of Tthe Raven as well, while they no longer served a purpose, he promised to keep them safe, and a promise is a promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spock,” Pike’s very tone was a warning, “Show me your hand, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock said nothing, did nothing. He remained focused on the man in front of him and his surroundings. He cast the smoldering pain in his side away, ignoring the blood that was dampening his shirt. He could not allow himself to give this man what he wanted. He didn’t trust him. Rather than being a stranger, he was a threat. Spock didn’t trust strangers, and those posing as a danger to him or his confidants even less so. Pike’s patience was spent, spent on Spock, someone who he used to know as obedient and gentle. Someone who was now a lethal threat, and rebelling to his requests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spock-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike received a hard kick to the chest and was thrown back. He was down for a moment before he stumbled up and brushed himself off. Spock had moved into a kneeling position, the chains taut. Spock held strong through the shocks being put through him, the ones that were meant to keep him at bay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike shook his head, “I really hope you can see what you’ve become. I’ll be back. I suggest you cooperate later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned and left, rather than feeling less tense, Spock felt it more so. Why would he be left alone? He most likely wasn’t, there was probably someone there that he just didn’t see. He didn’t like that feeling, he didn’t like the paranoia of not knowing what was in his surroundings. He banished the feeling, this was what they wanted. They wanted him to feel discomfort, they wanted him to snap, beg them to take away that uncertainty. He steeled himself, grounded, and cast away his emotions. He would give them nothing. He had to get out of there. He shuffled around a bit, the dizziness that was hitting him alarming. He couldn’t risk the potential delirium blood loss could cause, he couldn’t disclose any secrets. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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